


Farewell

by kitkatkaylie



Series: Theonsa Week 2021 [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Sansa looked like she was sleeping. Her skin was pale and cold as the snows outside. Her eyes closed, and the lines of pain that usually covered her face were smoothed out.For the prompt: Memories
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Series: Theonsa Week 2021 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197584
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6
Collections: Theonsa Week





	Farewell

Sansa looked like she was sleeping. Her skin was pale and cold as the snows outside. Her eyes closed, and the lines of pain that usually covered her face were smoothed out. 

She was peaceful and not in pain, and Theon supposed he should be grateful for that at least, but he could not be.

Not when it meant that he had lost her forever.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her cold forehead, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t fast enough.”

He could still see the hope that had flashed across her face, the momentary belief that she was safe, before a blade pierced her back. Their fingers had touched, the briefest sharing of warmth, and then it had all been taken away.

Sansa had fallen. Her blood had pooled beneath her, watering the dirt with her life.

His eyes scanned her face, and suddenly a lifetime of memories flashed before his eyes. A lifetime of memories with Sansa…

* * *

_ “Theon!” A high, sweet voice called across the courtyard, “Theon!” _

_ Theon turned to the little girl who was summoning him, an imperious expression on her tiny face. _

_ “What is it you want, little Stark?” He asked, suddenly feeling indulgent at the sight of her. _

_ “I want your help to get back at Robb.” Sansa Stark stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, “He stole my doll.” _

_ “And why would I help you?” _

_ “Because if you do then I’ll fix your squid. The one you hide beneath your pillow.” _

_ That was not an answer that Theon had expected, not in a thousand years. He did not realise that anyone knew about his squid, the squid that had been his companion since he was a babe, the one Yara had hidden in his luggage when he was dragged from his home and mother.  _

_ He wanted to know how Sansa Stark of all people knew about his squid, but he did not ask. Undoubtedly one of her siblings had told her, and Theon dreaded in a way to know who else knew of his weakness.  _

_ But… his squid did look tattered and well loved, he was threadbare in places, and his stitches had come apart in others. He did need mending, and little Sansa did have some of the neatest stitches in Winterfell. With the added bonus of being that it was part of a trade, so he was not weak for asking for his toy to be mended. _

_ “Fine,” He said, pretending not to see the way her eyes lit up, “We have a deal.” _

* * *

_ A girl, red hair up in braids and a simpering smile on her face as she looked at the Prince.  _

_ Theon had been a prince once, and no one had ever looked at him quite like that. _

_ He knew his thoughts were bitter, that it was better to not think of such things and instead focus on the fine wine before him.  _

_ It was easier said than done. Once, once he might have hoped that Lord Stark would betroth him to Sansa, and make him a son in truth. It was not to be though, not when there was a golden prince and a chance for her to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. _

_ He took another long drink, just as the musicians started up. Undoubtedly Sansa would ask him to dance with her, they were the only two who really enjoyed it and dancing was far more fun when your partner was having fun too. _

_ Theon watched as she opened the dancing in the arms of her betrothed, they made a handsome couple. There was a stiffness to their hold, the sort of stiffness that came from not knowing one another, but Theon was sure that would soon be rectified.  _

_ As predicted, almost as soon as Sansa and her betrothed had split to find other partners, she had appeared in front of him with a request to dance.  _

_ A request Theon was happy to honour. _

_ “I’m happy for you, Sansa. Truly I am.” Theon said, lifting her up in a twirl, “You’ll have the chance to show off your dancing to the Southern Courts.” _

_ Sansa giggled as he set her back on her feet, “It won’t be the same without my dance partner though. You shall have to come visit!” _

_ “Aye, my lady, I shall. And when I do you had better promise to throw me a grand ball to celebrate.”  _

_ “I shall.” Sansa grinned at him, a truly happy smile, “You must promise me that you won’t let Robb become too stressed while Father is away? He is a worrier, and I would have him laugh rather than fret.” _

_ Theon dipped into a low bow, just as the music stopped, “Your wish is my command, my lady.” He glanced over to a jealous looking Prince, “But I fear you should return to your betrothed now, while I? I shall attempt to find another maiden as fair as you to dance with.” _

* * *

_ There was nothing good in the kennels, no brightness or light. There was only the fight for scraps of food and warmth.  _

_ Or at least, nothing good until a beacon of bright sunlight entered the kennels, a head of bright hair, a gown bedecked with snarling wolves and leaping trout.  _

_ Reek’s eyes hurt to look at it too long, the splash of colour in a dark and dreary world. _

_ He scuttled back, away from the light and the brightness, fearful of tainting it if he was too close. _

_ “Theon?” The figure said, in a voice that Reek had never heard before, and yet tugged at the edges of his frayed mind. _

_ He clasped his hands over his ears and rocked in place, “Reek! Reek! It rhymes with freak and leak and meek!” _

_ The lady said something else, but Reek did not hear it, he could only rock and try and calm himself. He could not bear that name, could not bear that face or weight. _

_ But something inside him  _ wanted _ to, for the bright lady. _

* * *

_ He had come back to Winterfell for her. To fight for her. _

_ The dead were marching upon them, and she refused to leave Winterfell. She refused to leave her people. _

_ She would have made an excellent Queen, if she’d ever truly had the chance. _

_ He shadowed her on her rounds, greeting the sick and injured, taking stock of their supplies, speaking with the commanders of the forces and making sure that morale never fell too low. _

_ If his blade was not already sworn to Yara, Theon would have sworn it to her then and there. He would have proclaimed her his ruler, the way he once had Robb.  _

_ But he could not, all he could do was offer her what support he was able.  _

_ Theon looked over to her, just as the sun set, just as the army of the dead approached, and wondered if he should tell her that he loved her. _

_ But no, he would tell her when the sun rose again.  _

_ They had time.  _

__

* * *

__  
  


Tears fell from his eyes and splashed upon the cold stone she was resting on, they would not be the first tears she’d inside the crypts, and they certainly would not be the last.

“Farewell.” Theon said, pressing a final kiss to her forehead, “I love you, and I- I am sorry I never told you.”

He stepped back. He turned and left the crypts. 

Once the cold air and weak sunlight hit his face, Theon made a decision. He would not be returning North, not ever again.

After all, what was the point if she was not there?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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